


The Measure of Things

by thestarwar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Han Solo Lives, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarwar/pseuds/thestarwar
Summary: When Starkiller Base is destroyed, the Resistance escapes to Bespin.(Or: A story about survival, recovery, and falling in love and how to measure such things.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Gabby for this, since we are always talking about our ideal episode ix and how episode viii should have been.
> 
> Because I am having some troubles writing Seeing Blind, I figured I would post a preview of my next work as an apology: this TLJ fix-it. I will post updates to this more frequently once Seeing Blind is finished.
> 
> Title of the story inspired by the song of the same name sung by Oscar Isaac.
> 
> First and foremost, though, this is a story about recovery, about loving someone with trauma, and how we measure that love.

PROLOGUE

_"And you have fixed my Life--however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze."_ \--Wilfred Owen

The arctic forest was bathed in glowing lights of red and blue. Frigid breezes bit at Finn's skin. His hands felt frozen to the hilt of the lightsaber as he lunged at Kylo Ren—the shout of “traitor” echoing in his mind along with the broken screams of Han Solo inside Starkiller Base while Finn watched Kylo Ren's red lightsaber slice down, decapitating the smuggler's left arm. Finn could still hear Chewbacca’s furious roar and the screeching blasterfire that emanated from his own blaster as he pulled the trigger.

Kylo had managed a clumsy blow to Han Solo's side when Finn struck him. The man turned around and spotted Finn, eyes filled with a fiery rage. Before Kylo could retaliate, Finn fired at him again, giving Chewbacca enough time to scoop Han up in his arms and rush off.

Facing Ren in the dead forest surrounding Starkiller Base, Finn could still see the malice and darkness that filled the Sith's eyes. Because of Finn, he had been unable to kill Han Solo. Because of Finn, his planet-killing base was engulfed in ruin. Because of Finn, Ren did not have the lightsaber he desired. Finn's body tingled with satisfsction.

The lightsaber felt strange in Finn's hands, and his attacks were haphazard and sloppy compared to Ren's skilled and unmerciful blows. Finn was no Jedi, but he had to fight…for Rey. Even if Finn was a stormtrooper and a traitor and undeserving of the lightsaber— _not just any lightsaber_ , he reminded himself, _the legendary Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber_ —he knew someone even less deserving: Kylo Ren. Finn would be damned if Kylo got his hands on the weapon, and he would be damned if Kylo got his hands on Rey again.

Finn's back hit a tree. He held the saber up, fighting to keep the erratic red energy of the other weapon away from him. Even as he blocked Ren, he felt a searing pain on his shoulder and glanced down to see one of the tiny crossguard blades burning into his flesh.

When Ren pulled back to strike at Finn, Finn seized the opportunity to duck and spin away. His newfound footing was advantageous, and he was able to deliver a blow to Ren. _That's for Rey and Han Solo and Poe Dameron_ , thought Finn. But his victory was short-lived.

The lightsaber flew from Finn's hands. He stumbled and spun. A fiery pain stabbed at Finn in his back, and he fell to the cold ground, still feeling the flames tickling his spine and reverberating through his body. He thought of Rey and the lightsaber, but he couldn't move.

The cold snow against his face was the only thing tethering him to reality. Images flashed through his mind: Rey's face when they reunited in Starkiller Base, Maz Kanata's outstretched hand with the lightsaber in it, Poe Dameron's beaming face when they reunited on D'Qar, BB-8 giving him a thumbs-up, and the sands of Jakku as a stolen TIE Fighter crashed to the surface.

He had been FN-2187, the stormtrooper. Then he had been Finn, the rescuer, which turned into Finn the Resistance member. He was Finn the traitor and Finn who had tried to outrun the First Order and Finn who had come back for Rey.

He was Finn because he had made a choice not to kill for the First Order.

He was Finn because he had rescued a Resistance pilot.

He was Finn because Poe Dameron had given him a name.

In the end, he hadn’t made a very good stormtrooper, but he liked to think that he had made a better human. He made a better Finn than he had FN-2187. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he had enjoyed it very much. Being Finn.

* * *

  _The Millennium Falcon_ smelled of decay and burnt flesh. Desperately, Rey tried to ignore the oppressive scent as she navigated the ship away from the exploding Starkiller Base and back to the Resistance Base on D'Qar. Her hands trembled slightly over the controls—a result of the adrenaline coursing through her body and the fear she felt for her companions.

Aside from Rey, Chewbacca was the only conscious one, but he was also wounded. Kylo Ren's lightsaber had seared his arm when he had cornered his father and the Wookiee with intent to kill. Finn's sharpshooting abilities had saved them; his blaster fire hitting Ren and giving Chewbacca enough time to scoop a wounded Han Solo into his arms and escape. Neither Rey nor Chewbacca were sure Han would live. His left arm had been severed, and an angry red welt from a lightsaber twisted up his side. Finn fared no better: Ren's lightsaber had sliced up his back, and the injury was close enough to his spine that Rey worried her friend might never walk again.

Punching in the coordinates to D'Qar, Rey pushed _The Millennium Falcon_ into hyperspace. Han Solo's ship might have made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs, but she worried the Corellian freighter would not be fast enough to save Han and Finn's lives. Their victory against the First Order suddenly didn't feel much like one when she considered the casualties.

“How are they?” asked Rey when she heard Chewbacca shuffle into the cockpit.

“Alive,” Chewbacca responded in Shyriiwook.

Rey felt guilty. If Ren had never kidnapped her, then Finn would not have brought a rescue party to Starkiller Base. If they died, it would be her fault. She should have stayed on Jakku. She wondered if she could even return home now that the First Order knew who she was. Now that Kylo Ren knew who she was and knew she had a connection to the Force, he would hunt her down. But Rey would be prepared; the next time she came face-to-face with Ren, she would avenge Finn.

As she thought of Finn, Rey was overcome with another emotion that she couldn't quite name. She was overcome with the fact that Finn had come back for her. No one ever came back for Rey.

“Your arm.” Rey swiveled in her chair to face Chewbacca. “Is it okay?”

Chewbacca shrugged and extended his shaggy arm to her. Below his shoulder was an inflamed welt ringed with charred skin and singed fur.

Rey grabbed the Wookiee's forearm to investigate the injury closer. “It doesn't look fatal.”

“I've had worse,” Chewbacca growled out.

“I’d hate to see what you've been through if a lightsaber wound is no different than a gnaw-jaws bite.”

Chewbacca’s barking laughter shook his body. “Life with Han Solo never gets boring.”

Rey smiled, but it was forced. She hoped Chewbacca wouldn't have to suffer through a life without Han Solo, and she hoped she wouldn't have to suffer a similar fate. Life without Finn.

* * *

 When _The Millennium Falcon_ landed on D'Qar, Poe Dameron watched medical teams storm the ship with two stretchers after an incoming transmission from the _Falcon_ reported two casualties. His heart stuttered to a stop and dipped into his stomach—the same way it had when he'd woken up alone in the Jakku desert. His chest constricted the way it had when he scrabbled at the desert sand, seeking Finn and refusing to believe the man who rescued him was lost to the planet's sinkhole, which had already claimed the stolen TIE fighter. The adrenaline from their victory against Starkiller Base dissipated from his body.

Finn had saved his life and completed his mission, and all Poe had given him in return was a used jacket and a name. It wasn't fair. Finn deserved more. He had broken free from the First Order’s conditioning and had the opportunity to embrace his own autonomy for the first time in his life. It couldn't end like this.

Finn had entered his life like a comet, igniting Poe, and Poe was afraid to see Finn flicker out.

General Leia Organa strode up beside him and patted his arm.

“Everyone is alive,” she murmured. “I can feel it.”

That knowledge didn't prepare Poe as he watched the teams guide hover-stretchers out with the bodies of Han Solo and Finn on them.

Only hours ago, he and Finn had been reunited after thinking the other dead. Poe remembered how Finn had looked, stumbling towards him on the D'Qar landing strip, wearing his jacket. How Finn's broad shoulders filled the jacket out and how the jacket made its home on Finn's body as though it had belonged to him all along. How Finn's body was warm and sturdy and _alive_ against Poe's when they embraced.

Chewbacca trailed after the medics, snapping at any personnel who seemed to handle Han too roughly for the likes of the Wookiee. Poe itched to follow after them, but remained beside General Organa. Leia had taken an interest on the girl emerging from _The Millennium Falcon_ whom Poe assumed was Finn's friend Rey who had needed rescued from the clutches of the First Order.

She was tall and slender with a round face. Her hair was disheveled and escaping from the three buns on her head, and her beige tunic was torn in places and covered with dirt and dust in others. When she approached the general, she seemed to deflate, her shoulders sagging. She fumbled with something against her belt, and then extended her arm, offering the general a lightsaber.

“It called to you,” said the general.

Even though it wasn't a question, Rey nodded. Tears brimmed her eyes, and the hand that held the lightsaber quivered.

Leia gently nudged Rey's hand down. “Then you should keep it.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

Wordlessly, General Leia gathered Rey in her arms and held her, muttering that the girl had nothing to apologize for.

Feeling like an intruder, Poe turned away and hurried after the retreating stretchers. BB-8 glimpsed him and trundled along at his heels, beeping inquisitively at him, but Poe couldn't find the words to answer his droid's questions. It was as though admitting Finn was wounded would make it real, and Poe didn't want to think about that.

Instead, Poe wanted to think about Finn taking off his stormtrooper helmet and rescuing him. He and Finn escaping the First Order and celebrating Finn's gunmanship. He and Finn reuniting, their bodies colliding like two asteroids.

* * *

 For Poe, the days began to bleed into each other. He split his time between sitting in on intelligence briefings and sitting beside Finn's bedside in the medbay, sewing up the torn jacket with a thick leather cord he'd found in his toolkit. The sewing was a welcome distraction and required his full concentration. He pushed his worries about Finn to the back of his mind and tried to ignore how lifeless Finn looked, his body limp on the bed and encased in a bacta pack suit.

Poe had always been good at fixing things. Back on Yavin IV, when he was little, he would help his mother fix her A-Wing after their flights when Poe would sit in her lap and steer the fighter. Even after her death, Poe would sneak out at night and escape to the garage to tinker with one of the last connections he had to her as he worked tirelessly to keep the retired A-Wing running. He had found BB-8 in an old junkyard and brought the droid home, repairing the astromech and giving it life. Then, when Poe grew older, he started working on his T-70 X-Wing fighter. Anything that ended up underneath his hands, Poe could fix, but he couldn't fix this.

He couldn't fix Finn, so he sat and sewed the jacket in silence, losing his mind in the steady motions of the needle diving into the fabric and surfacing again.

Poe knew he had to service his X-Wing and help prepare Blue Squadron for the upcoming evacuation. Fearing retaliation from the First Order, General Organa had ordered the Resistance to separate itself. Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo would take a group to Chandrila to locate leaders of the New Republic and broker an agreement with them to help take down the First Order. Admiral Ackbar would take another faction of the Resistance to Onderon and try recruiting those who sympathized with their cause. Meanwhile, General Leia would bring her group to Bespin to seek funding, and Poe would go with her.

He still had thirty-six hours before the evacuation.  
He continued to sew.

With eight hours left before the evacuation, Rey entered the medbay.

Until then, Poe had taken to dividing his time between sitting at Finn's bedside, sitting in on intelligence briefings, and helping Blue Squadron prepare for evacuation by servicing the fighters and practicing defensive maneuvers to protect _The Raddus_ if necessary (although everyone suspected the First Order would be too busy licking its wounds to prepare another attack upon the Resistance). Poe only left Finn when Dr. Harter Kalonia came in to treat Finn.

She would change out his bacta packs as well as administer bacta injections directly into Finn's spinal cord, which would help regrow both his motor neurons and sensory neurons quicker than surface-level bacta gels. Routinely, she misted his back with numb-spray and continued to administer the painkiller nyex intravenously. After the medications ensured Finn would not wake, Dr. Kalonia would also inject neuro-stimulators into Finn's back, which she explained to Poe would stimulate the regrowing neurons along his spinal cord, so they would not atrophy while he was laid up.

If Poe could, he would've stayed in the medbay and held Finn's unresponsive hand while Dr. Kalonia implemented these procedures, but she would not allow it. So Poe took the opportunities to see to his other obligations on the base. However, as he told General Organa, Finn was his top priority.

Therefore, it was refreshing to see Finn receive another visitor. Another friend. While the base on D'Qar was buzzing with excitement about the stormtrooper who defected and blew up Starkiller Base, the stromtrooper who became a hero, there was no one who visited Finn simply because he was Finn. There was no one who Finn would be able to wake up to and call friend. Except Poe. And Rey.

“You must be Poe,” she said when she walked in and saw him sitting at Finn's bedside.

He nodded and smiled. “You must be Rey.”

“Finn told me about you.” Rey pulled a chair up on the other side of Finn's bed and exuberantly patted BB-8's head when the droid rolled up to her. “When we first left Jakku, he told me about ‘the best pilot in the Resistance.’”

Poe beamed at that news. “Finn didn't tell me much about you--didn't have the time—but he cares about you. He brought an army with him to save you.”

Rey reached over and grabbed Finn's hand in hers, bringing it up to her lips and kissing his knuckles. “I know. And look what happened to him.”

“He'll pull through,” Poe assured her quickly. He was refusing to listen to any nagging doubts in his head that told him otherwise. Finn had broken free of the First Order's brainwashing. Finn had defeated Kylo Ren, the First Order, and even the soldier's identity thrust upon him. FN-2187. He was Finn, and he would keep being Finn. “It'll just take some time.”

“I don't have time,” explained Rey, “I'm leaving with Chewie to find Luke Skywalker and bring him back. The general wanted to send Han, but….” Rey's voice trailed off, and Poe could see her fighting back tears.

“Han will be okay, too.”

Rey nodded and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Finn's forehead. “We'll see each other again, friend. I know we will. I'm sorry I won't be here when you wake up, b-but I have to do this. I have to find Luke Skywalker. I have to find a way to end this war. To end that monster's life. I'm going to end this war for you, Finn. For us. S-so we can travel the galaxy together and see everything we missed out on. I promise, Finn.” Tears ran down her face, and her cheeks were red as she looked up at Poe. “You'll look out for him, won't you?”

“I won't leave him.”

She turned to BB-8. “Be nice to Finn, yeah? And don't bend your antenna again.”

BB-8 promised and chirped a sad goodbye to Rey.

Poe knew firsthand what the First Order was capable of. He shuddered whenever the memories he'd shut away broke through, and he was forced to confront what had happened to him before Finn rescued him. He wanted desperately to tell Rey all of this and assure her that he would protect Finn from the terrorist threat, but she was gone before he could find the right words.

_Is Poe okay?_ BB-8 asked with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

“Fine,” Poe lied, reaching out to grab Finn's hand and squeezing it gently in the vain hope that it would dispel the haunting images that flitted through his mind. If the First Order had done all of that to him in his short time with them, he couldn't imagine what they had done to Finn.

_Be strong_ , Poe told himself thinking of his mother and his father and the general. They didn't break; neither would he. _Be strong for Finn._

* * *

 Finn screamed in pain.

He was in the snow-laden forest again, and he could feel Kylo Ren's lightsaber slicing through his back. His whole body burned. Vaguely, he wondered why the snow wasn't melting underneath his body when he was clearly encapsulated in flames. The scent of burning flesh surrounded him.

His vision was blackening, but he tried to fight it. He had to save Rey. She was counting on him. The Resistance was counting on him. Poe Dameron, who had given him his name, was counting on him.

“You're okay, Finn. It's me. I'm here. You're okay.” Finn thought he could hear the pilot's voice.

Ren must have found a way in his head. He was playing games with Finn.

Even though he couldn't feel his body, Finn struggled to fight back. He screamed, hoping he could articulate through the pain enough to get Ren to stop. The word traitor echoed around him, but Finn didn't think he was a traitor. He was Finn. And he liked being Finn. He wouldn't let anyone take that away from him. They couldn't take away the feeling of Rey's hand in his as they ran across the sands of Jakku. Of Han Solo pulling him to his feet amidst the rubble of Maz's castle on Takodana. Of Poe Dameron's toothy smile as he ran to Finn on D'Qar and embraced him.

More voices murmured around Finn. Another scream tore through his throat, which left him breathless. The First Order wasn't taking him back. Finn would not go silently. He would not become FN-2187 again.

“My name is Finn,” he shouted, “My name is Finn. I am human. Finn. I am Finn!”

At his words, the fiery pain receded from his body. Comforting numbness cloaked his skin. The racing images of a snowy forest bathed in red dissipated. His bleary vision gave way to a white light and a pair of eyes the color of a crashlanding on Jakku.

“Finn, buddy, it's me.”

“Poe?” croaked Finn. He tried to reach out to the light. To the warm eyes. But darkness surrounded him once again.


	2. From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn liked listening to Poe prattle on. He liked listening to Poe's voice. It was soft and husky, and Poe always spoke with zeal and determination. To Finn, Poe's voice was filled with promise. The promise that the war would end and there would be a future in which they were afforded the luxury of traveling the galaxy together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this quicker than I thought I would. Thanks to everyone for the comments and feedback. Always feel free to message me on my tumblr: huttslut.

CHAPTER ONE:

FROM THE ASHES

Beneath his feet, snow crunched and twigs that were scattered along the forest floor cracked. Finn moved cautiously, feeling as though he had been in this exact place before. He stepped into a small clearing, which was bathed in a vibrant red light that originated from a lightsaber held by a monster cloaked in black. The beam of energy licked at the air and hissed at Finn.

Before Finn could move, the monster lunged at him and thrust the blade into Finn. He choked around a scream of pain that was ripped from his throat. It felt like the lightsaber was melting his insides, and his spine burned. The fire consumed him, but still Finn fought against it.

He would die fighting it. He would not go quietly. If the fire devoured him, he would rise from the ashes to fight those who had lit the flames.

Gasping, Finn awoke and was greeted by the light from a glaringly white room, which made him sigh with relief upon realizing he was no longer in the forest clearing. The smell of tree sap from the pines and firs was replaced by the sharp smell of cleaning chemicals. Those scents were familiar to him; the First Order’s ships had been nothing but scrubbed corridors and sterile equipment. The same could not be said of the Resistance with their underground bunkers where the walls were mottled with dirt and curling roots from trees.

“Welcome back amongst the stars, Finn,” said a voice that made him jump. The voice itself was warm and kind, but unfamiliar.

Finn glanced down to the foot of his bed where the woman who had spoken stood. She had a soft face worn with lines, and her dark hair was graying, but Finn also noticed a gentle strength about her. It was in the way she held herself, straight and composed, and in the way her eyes, sharp and calculating, burned with a reassuring warmth.

“Who are you?” Finn asked, “Where am I? Where's Rey?”

“Don't work yourself into a panic,” she said with a smile that calmed Finn. “I am Doctor Kalonia. You are safe with the Resistance. You're onboard _The Raddus_ headed to Bespin. And your friend Rey is safe, too. She left to find Luke Skywalker.”

Relieved, Finn tried to settle back into bed to loosen the tension that had built up in his muscles from anxiety, but his body was sluggish in responding to him. Feeling an uncomfortable tickle in his back, Finn squirmed on the bed. Not wanting Dr. Kalonia to fret over him—Finn was sure she had other people to take care of—he tried to pass it off as though he was merely observing his new environment.

The Resistance’s medbay was smaller than the ones Finn was used to with the First Order, but it was more welcoming. First Order medbays were primarily composed of bacta tanks; if bacta could not heal a trooper, then the trooper was left to die. Sometimes, when the bacta supplies were low, the substance was conserved for the officers who were much more important. Finn had once cleaned the officers' medbay and had been astounded to see how well-equipped it was in comparison to the one he was used to. The officers didn't just have droid personnel, either, but had sentient beings to care for them.

The medbay on _The Raddus_ only had one bacta tank, which was too small to submerge anyone; its primary use seemed to be storage. Medical equipment was pushed haphazardly against the walls to give as much space as possible to the beds and chairs that littered the room. As Finn glanced around, his eyes fell on a chair that had been pushed next to his bed.

In the chair was the sleeping form of Poe Dameron. He was wearing the orange jumpsuit from his flight suit, and his hair was a disheveled mess, pushed flat in some places—no doubt from his helmet. He was sitting straight, arms folded across his torso, but his head was tipped forward, his chin on his chest. Every so often, he murmured something too low and too nonsensical for Finn to decipher.

Dr. Kalonia noticed where his gaze had fallen. “We'll wake him in a little. This is the first sleep I've seen him get since Starkiller, and it's only because General Organa ordered him to rest. Had she not, I might've had to slip him some sleeping meds. I know he's smitten, but that doesn't mean he should abandon his wellbeing.”

Finn wanted to ask what ‘smitten' meant, but he was afraid it was an illness that had befallen Poe, and he didn't want to pry into the other man's personal life. Poe deserved his privacy and his secrets. Besides, Finn had no right to those; he and Poe had been pulled together by circumstance. He was sure the pilot was only affording him a nicety in sitting beside him.

“What happened?” Finn asked instead, looking back to Dr. Kalonia.

“That's the question everyone’s asking. You and Rey are the only ones who know what happened in that forest.”

Memories flashed through Finn along with the remnants of his dream. He could remember seeing Rey collapse in the snow, dueling with Kylo Ren, slicing at that monster with the blue lightsaber, and feeling fiery pain encapsulate his body.

“I was hurt,” Finn said slowly.

“That's an understatement. You came in here with your back sliced to bits. The nerves along your spine were fried. I was worried the bacta packs wouldn't be enough, so I've been administering it in injections as well as using numbing spray and neuro-stimulators. You're healing well, though. I expect you’ll be out of bed in the next few days.”

Finn stared, mouth agape. The thought of the Resistance using so much of their resources on him was baffling. He was no one. Yet, Dr. Kalonia was taking care of him as if he mattered. He felt guilty for being such a drain on their limited resources and mumbled, “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” asked Dr. Kalonia. “You helped us blow up Starkiller Base. Finn, you're a hero. You have nothing to apologize for.”

A hero? Finn's head swam. He had only done what was right. Any member of the Resistance would have willingly done the same.

Before he could say anything else, Dr. Kalonia was by his side and reaching over to grab the IV line that Finn now noticed he was connected with. She pulled out a syringe and injected it into the needleless port along the tubing. “I'm giving you some nyex to help with the pain. It's going to put you to sleep, so I can give you some spinal injections. I'm also going to do a quick debridement on some necrotic tissue around the wound. I won't have you contracting an infection after all this. Now, get some rest, Finn.”

Finn wanted to protest. He didn't even feel any pain in his back, and he still felt guilty that Dr. Kalonia had divested so much time and resources into his healing. However, she had already injected the nyex.

A cold shiver ran along his forearm as the medicine was pumped into him intravenously. The chill was immediately replaced by a comforting numbness, and he slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

 With _The Raddus_ safely in hyperspace, General Leia Organa left the ship's bridge and strode purposefully to the medbay. She'd had little time to visit while she oversaw the ship's lightspeed jump and communicated with both Holdo and Ackbar to ensure their jumps had been successful as well. When everything was confirmed safe, she offered silent thanks to the Force, which was the entity to which she had begun channeling her hope and faith.

She could recall—from another lifetime, it seemed—Luke telling her that belief in the Force was a powerful thing, almost as powerful as being able to touch and manipulate it. The Force, he said, was an energy connecting all living beings, and acknowledging that connection would open the path that led to using those connections. As much as she tried, though, Leia could never move objects around the way Luke or others could. Sometimes, she would see images or auras around others that she had to interpret, or she would feel a warning that tugged deep inside her, but she was always left to decipher what the warning was for. She had felt it when she had given birth, and she had felt it before Han boarded _The Millennium Falcon_ right before the attack on Starkiller Base.

Reaching the corridors of the medical wing, Leia peered into the first room where Dr. Kalonia and a few other medics were clustered around Finn, performing a debridement. She didn't want to interrupt, but she did want to make sure Poe Dameron was following her orders.

“You need rest, Poe,” she had told him in exasperation once _The Raddus_ left the D'Qar atmosphere. “If the First Order attacks, we don't need a sleep-deprived commander. We need an alert one who can make the right decisions.”

“I'm fine,” Poe said tersely, his attention fixated entirely on the jacket he was painstakingly sewing.

“I know you haven't slept well since the First Order interrogated you—”

Poe froze in his sewing. “It's fine.”

“Look,” Leia sighed in frustration. She adored Poe, but his stubbornness often reminder her of another cocky pilot she'd adored. “If you don't want to talk about it, or aren't ready to, that's fine, Poe. And if you won't heed my concerns, that's fine, too. But I’m not asking as Leia anymore. I am ordering you, as your general, to get some rest. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to ground you.”

Poe looked over at her, eyes wide and pleading, but he didn't speak.

“Don't make me strip away my best pilot's flying clearances,” she said and left the room, confident he would make the right choice.

Peering into the room, she was glad to see Poe asleep on the chair beside Finn's bed. In his sleep, Leia marveled how much he looked like his father Kes. The sharp set of his jaw, raised cheekbones, and the curve of his nose. When he was on the move, Poe was always a spitting image of his mother Shara Bey: headstrong, adventurous, loyal to a fault, and one of the best pilots she had ever known.

Leia moved along to corridor to her destination and entered the next room of the medbay. It looked much like the first, but was bereft of people—except the man on the bed.

Taking a seat beside the bed, Leia reached out to brush some hair away from his eyes. Even though he had aged, Han Solo still resembled the dashing young pilot she'd fallen in love with. His brown hair was now gray, and there were deep-set lines along his forehead and around his mouth. Even in sleep, the lines did not fade. The stress of their lives was imprinted upon him forever, as it was on her face, too.

“Leia.”

His voice startled her. She looked down to see he had one eye cracked open. Then his other one opened, and Leia was staring at the hazel eyes that had a blue tint in the glaring white lights of the medbay. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she missed his eyes. Until now, she hadn’t realized how scared she was that he would never wake up.

“Han,” she whispered, taking a deep breath to avoid crying. She was a general and too old to cry. She was not the young girl on the moon of Endor who had let herself cry and let herself, in turn, be held by Han Solo. Finally, she admitted, “You scared me.”

“What?” he smirked, “Afraid I was going to leave without giving you a goodbye kiss?”

Leia laughed and grabbed his hand, squeezing lightly, “I'd sooner kiss a Wookiee.”

Han brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “Speaking of Wookiees, where is that fuzzball?”

“I sent him to bring back Luke,” she explained, “Time is of the essence here.”

“I'm really starting to think you've been using me for my fast ship,” Han teased.

“You think I married you for that bucket of bolts?”

Leia missed laughing. Especially laughing with Han. For the past few years, her life had been devoid of such, and she realized how much she ached with a longing she had repressed for so long.

“Bucket of bolts?” Han arched a brow. “You didn't say that about her when we spent our honeymoon aboard—”

Without preamble, Leia leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his lips—both to shut him up and to remind herself that what they had between them was still there. That love had matured and aged, but so had they. Relationships could not always be passionate kisses on Corellian ships; sometimes, relationships had to be tough choices and painful absences and grief.

“Are you okay?” she asked before he could seize the opportunity and make another playful quip or teasing remark.

“My side hurts,” he said and held up his left hand. “And it seems I've been formally inducted into the Skywalker clan.”

Han's hand had been severed from his wrist and was replaced with a prosthetic. The synthetic skin on it was still new, and it looked taut and awkward. No doubt, he would have to endure therapy to regain his movement and adjust to the prosthetic.

“You've always been part of the family.”

“Leia,” Han said, his tone serious. “I'm sorry. I failed. I couldn’t bring back our son.”

She nodded, wishing the heaviness in her heart would leave. Wishing she was laughing again like the two of them had been moments ago. “I should have known there was too much Vader in him.”

Han shook his head. “No. Leia, that's not right. You were Vader's daughter, and Luke was Vader's son, but neither of you joined a terrorist organization. I know we have been avoiding this and trying to ascribe blame, but I think it's time to admit to what we've been running from. Ben made those choices. He joined Snoke of his own volition. He watched over the genocide on Hosnian Prime without remorse. Leia, he chose that path. Nothing we could have done would have stopped that.”

“I know.” She could feel the hot tears on her face, and she no longer had the energy to remind herself that generals did not cry. They didn't break. “I guess I never wanted to admit it, but I've known for a while. It was like admitting it would acknowledge that he's really gone. That my son is truly dead.”

“I offered him a chance to come home. He didn't take it, Leia. He didn't want to.”

“Luke told me that Vader—that _my father_ —loved his family. He loved my mother so much that he was consumed by darkness trying to keep her safe. A-and he loved Luke, too. I never wanted to believe it when Luke told me. Never wanted to believe a monster was capable of love, but it was true. He loved Luke enough to fight the darkness and step out into the light one last time.

“Luke even said he loved me, and I think that was the hardest truth to accept. ‘You were right about me. Tell your sister, you were right.’ Those were his dying words. He wanted me to know that there was still a little bit of Anakin Skywalker left in him when he died. Anakin Skywalker, who was capable of love and loved his family.” The tears were flowing freely. “Han, it took me so long to accept that my father who had been a monster loved me. How was I supposed to accept that my son who had loved me became a monster?”

Han opened his arms, and she leaned down, allowing herself to be embraced. Allowing herself this moment of vulnerability. Of reprieve.

Han kissed the top of her head. “We can't save him, Leia. There is nothing left in him to save. But we can save the galaxy from him.”

“Yes,” whispered Leia, head buried in his neck. He usually smelled like engine oil, copper, and spice, but now he smelled like antibacterial soap. “I want to end this war. Together. Like old times.”

“Who do you think you're calling old, princess?”

Any other time, Leia would have corrected him. She was a general—not the young Alderaanian princess he had rescued from the Death Star. But Leia was weary: she always had to be strong. Just this once, she would let herself be a princess again, safe in a dashing smuggler’s embrace.

* * *

 When Finn awoke again, it was to the same numbness that occupied his back and to the same stiffness in his joints. He'd never been sedentary for so long, and he yearned to stretch his legs. When he tried to move, he felt a sharp pull in his back that stopped him and made him groan in pain.

Tiny mechanical chirps sounded.

“Calm down, BB-8. Let him wake up.” From the chair at his bedside, Poe patted the astromech droid's head before turning his attention on Finn. His grin was toothy, and his eyes seemed to glow like the Jakku sun. “How ya feeling, buddy?”

“Sore,” Finn admitted.

“You scared me for a second there. I didn't think the galaxy would reunite us just to separate us again. Well, I was hoping it wouldn't.” Poe still had the same bouncing and talkative energy he'd had when they'd been in the TIE Fighter or when they'd reunited on D'Qar, and it made Finn smile.

“I'm a survivor,” Finn assured him. That word conjured up images from Starkiller Base. Finn almost jolted up from the bed had Poe not placed a hand on his chest and gently guided him back down while Finn panicked. “What happened to Han? Is he alive?”

“Han is okay,” said Poe softly.

“Are _you_ okay?” asked Finn suddenly, remembering what Dr. Kalonia had said about Poe not sleeping and Poe being ‘smitten'—whatever that meant.

“I'm fine, pal. I feel strong enough to wrestle a wampa.”

Finn's face scrunched up in confusion. “What's a wampa?”

As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Finn's heart beat with a panicky skip. In the First Order, there were no questions. There were commands, and there was obedience. Questioning orders was akin to admitting to treason, and it would result in any inquisitive stormtrooper being sent to reconditioning. However, even as Finn opened his mouth to revoke his question, he mentally chided himself. This was the Resistance. This was Poe. There was no reconditioning to fear here.

Poe's expression was soft as he answered Finn, “They’re these huge snow creatures on Hoth.”

Finn smiled. Poe didn't seem exasperated or irritated with the question, and Finn was thankful for how patient Poe was with the gaps in his knowledge.

“You've been to Hoth?” Finn asked, realizing how much he liked asking about Poe and how much he liked receiving answers. Such modes of communication had always been forbidden to him, and now he understood why. Asking questions meant admitting there were things he did not know as well as admitting there were entire worlds out there for him to experience. The First Order did not want stormtroopers to imagine any life outside of the regime.

In the medbay of _The Raddus_ , with Poe Dameron beside him, Finn felt free to acknowledge an entire galaxy of opportunities in front of him. He was free.

“Well, no, but everyone knows about Hoth now.” When Finn’s stare was blank, Poe continued, “It's part of history. Echo Base on Hoth, that's where the Rebel Alliance hid from the Empire.”

Memories from the First Order flooded Finn's mind. He could remember learning about the names of failed Rebel bases: Yavin IV, Hoth, Crait, and Dantooine were among them. Captain Phasma would list off the bases and explain how the Rebel Alliance were nothing but rats. They ran and hid, squirreling themselves away on inhospitable planets because civilized planets did not want the rats to disease their worlds. She explained that the rats needed to be exterminated lest their pestilence spread across the galaxy. Phasma said the Resistance was nothing more than the remnants of that plague.

“That is why you must be treated like rats sometimes,” Phasma would say, marching down the line of her command, “If you can think like a rat, then you will be able to find where the other rats hide. Your superior officers do not need to think like rats. We already think like hawks, so you must be the rats that lead us to our prey. If you resist, then you will be no different than the rats that we consume.”

Finn had never seen a rat. If one were found aboard the ships, then that would be a sign of the cadets’ failure. However, the First Order had shown them an abundance of reels to teach them about planets they would encounter. He could remember one reel with a rat and a hawk in it. He could remember having to watch the hawk capture the rat and play with its victim before devouring it. Sometimes he could still hear the frenzied screams of the struggling rat as the hawk tortured it before slamming its talons down and breaking the tiny critter's back.

They weren't supposed to sympathize with the rat. The rat represented the Resistance in all its pathetic squalor and cowardice.

Yet Finn didn't think the Resistance’s ability to adapt to hostile environments was cowardice. He thought it was admirable.

“I'll have to show you the galaxy when this war is over,” continued Poe, his voice bringing Finn out of his memories, “That's what your friend Rey said she wanted to do. Maybe, when I don't need to be a pilot, I could make a decent tour guide.”

“Rey was here?” Finn asked in surprise.

“Of course she was. She wanted to say goodbye to you, but she'll be back in no time, I'm sure.”

“And when we finish fighting this war, you'll show me the stars?”

“We?” Poe's face scrunched up in confusion. “Y-you're going to stay?”

Finn felt stupid. “I mean—if you'll have me? Am I even allowed to stay?”

Finn wanted to ask if the Resistance would want a stormtrooper fighting with them, but he was afraid of the answer. No wonder the First Order deemed questions dangerous. Questions led to answers, and answers were frightening.

“Of course you are,” said Poe quickly, “I just didn't think you wanted to stay. No, I'd love to have you, Finn. I mean, we'd be honored to have you. All of us. Not just me.”

Finn liked listening to Poe prattle on. He liked listening to Poe's voice. It was soft and husky, and Poe always spoke with zeal and determination. To Finn, Poe's voice was filled with promise. The promise that the war would end and there would be a future in which they were afforded the luxury of traveling the galaxy together.

“Once you're better, we can talk to General Leia about you enlisting,” Poe explained, “but if you change your mind about fighting, we'll still keep you, Finn. Don't feel you have to enlist to stay. You can stay and work behind the scenes, too.”

“I want to stay,” Finn assured him, “I want to fight. I want to end this war.”

Poe grinned, his smile toothy. His teeth were crooked, and his eyes crinkled in delight, and Finn realized how much he loved Poe's smile. Poe had the type of happiness that was contagious, and Finn had first noticed it upon the TIE Fighter when Poe's laughter made Finn laugh and shout with glee when he shot his target. Poe's presence was a morale booster, and Finn imagined that played into the optimism found in the Resistance.

“I'll be beside you every step of the way,” Poe promised and reached out to grab Finn's hand.

Finn's own face lit up. Poe's grip was firm and comforting, and it tethered Finn into this reality that was filled with promise and opportunity and a future where there were no more wars. A future with no more fighting. A future where they could stand up from the rubble, dust themselves off, and live.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will include Rey's meeting with Luke Skywalker on Ahch-To, Lando Calrissian, and more of Finn's recovery with Poe by his side, which was robbed from us in TLJ.
> 
> For more of my works, check out:
> 
> The Anatomy of a Rescue: a one-shot in which the Resistance takes shelter on Hoth
> 
> Seeing Blind: a WIP in which Poe is a famous musician and Finn is hired to be his boyfriend
> 
> Shatterpoint: a WIP in which Finn is a Jedi who must protect Senator Poe Dameron


	3. Heroes and Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know what my favorite story is?”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> Poe leaned in closer. “The one where a dashing Resistance pilot was captured by the First Order. And a stormtrooper pulled him aside, took off his helmet, and saved him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Thank you for all the kudos and comments. Your reviews always motivate me.
> 
> As always, feel free to hit me up on tumblr: huttslut

CHAPTER TWO:

HEROES AND VILLAINS

Her hand trembled slightly as she held out the lightsaber. The muscles in her legs felt sore and heavy from the trek up the dilapidated stone stairs that wound their way around the hills of the Ahch-To island. Chewbacca and R2-D2 were waiting for her along the shoreline where they had landed _The Millennium Falcon_. Rey had stepped out of the ship in amazement. There had been so much green on Takodana and then on D'Qar. Ahch-To took her breath away.

There were verdant green hills that seemed to climb straight to the sky and the binary suns overhead. Rolling blue waters stretched into the horizon, and the waves crashed along the shore, misting the air with spray and a heady scent of salt. Rey felt breathless watching the ebb and flow of the waters. She wished Finn was with her to see this planet. The fluffy clouds in the sky. Tiny puffin creatures that fluttered through the air. Crashing waves of deep blue and foamy white that kissed the shore. Obscure shadows in the water that indicated aquatic life.

Since leaving Jakku, Rey had never seen a planet so full of life and movement. On Jakku, she could stare across the dunes for hours and never so much as see an insect flutter by. On this planet, stillness was a foreign concept.

Even as she held out the lightsaber to the Luke Skywalker, she could see birds soaring out of the corner of her eye and hear their warbling calls to one another. Soon, though, the avian trills faded into a background noises; even the waves did not seem to roar with the same ferocity. Ahch-To faded into a blur of green grass and blue water and gray stone as she held out the lightsaber to Luke Skywalker, holding her breath.

He seemed to take the weapon from her in slow motion, rolling it around in his hands and running his fingers along the grooves of the hilt. His face was unreadable, but Rey thought he looked solemn. Thought she saw a redness to his blue eyes and the hint of tears.

“Where did you get this?” His voice startled her. It was a grating rasp, the sound of a voice unaccustomed to being used. He still wasn't looking at her, his gaze fixated on what she had brought him.

His solitude on the island had taken its toll on him. He was unkempt and seemed wild. His graying hair was long and tangled, and his face was obscured by a thick beard. Underneath the roughness, Rey thought she could see a gentleness in his face and manner in spite of the abundance of pain that surrounded his legend.

Her voice shook, and she found she was trying not to cry. It wasn't just that she was standing in front of a legend—a legendary Jedi Master. With the lightsaber out of her hands, it felt like a burden had eased off her shoulders. She felt relieved, and she desperately wanted to convey to Luke Skywalker that he needed to keep that lightsaber. That she couldn't shoulder the burden any longer. She didn't want it, had never asked for it. Instead, she said, “It called to me.”

His eyes shot up, torn away from the lightsaber in his hands. They were narrowed in suspicion as they studied her. They were the color of cold water, and Rey shivered despite the fact that the breeze had died around them. “Who are you?”

“I'm no one,” she said, desperate for him to understand that she had not wanted this. She wanted home. She wanted Finn. Not this. Anything but this.

For a brief moment, the memory of Kylo Ren digging in her brain flickered in her mind. She could feel the pressure in her mind, remnants of his probing. His deep growling voice echoed, telling her he could take whatever he wanted from her. Desperately, she buried the memory. She hadn’t wanted this, but it had been thrust upon her; Kylo Ren had made sure of that. Now she had to take up the mantle forced upon her. She had to finish this. For Finn. For herself.

“That's not true.” He took a step closer to her, eyes still searching. “I've travelled across this whole galaxy, and I've never met anyone who wasn't special. Never met anyone who was a nobody. So, _who_ are you?”

“My name is Rey,” she said softly, averting her eyes down to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

“That's your name, yes, but who are you? Why are you here?”

“I'm with the Resistance,” explained Rey, “Your sister sent me.”

He frowned. “Why? Who are you? Why did she send you?”

Rey sagged, feeling helpless. “I don't know. She wanted to send Han, but—”

Luke's eyes flickered with emotion, and his face softened, the tension draining from it. “Where's Han? Is he okay?”

“Yes,” Rey answered quickly, “At least, I think he is. He was in critical condition when I left. Kylo Ren tried to kill him. That's why I’m here. The First Order is gaining more influence, and the New Republic still refuses to condemn them and their actions. We dealt them a blow by destroying Starkiller Base, but we need your help. We need Luke Skywalker.”

He shook his head. “No you don't,” he croaked, “You don't need me.”

With that, he let the lightsaber fall from his hands, and it hit the grass with a dull thud. He brushed past her, trekking down the hill, his tattered brown cloak flapping in the light breeze.

Rey picked up the lightsaber and spun on her heels. She called after his retreating form, “I need you. I need a teacher. Something has—I don't know how to describe it—awoken inside me. I don't know what it is or how to control it. I need help. I need the legendary Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.”

There were tears in her eyes, and her chest was tight. She needed him to understand. She had no one who could relate to what she was going through. She needed some sort of belonging, and she was exhausted from chasing after it.

Luke didn't even turn to look at her. “The Jedi Order must die.”

* * *

 Finn twitched with anticipation. He felt restless. He had never been confined to a bed while in the First Order for so long. Even though it had only been a single day since _The Raddus_ jumped into hyperspace and since Finn had gained consciousness, the hours seemed to tick away slowly. Boredom, Finn learned, slowed time. After a while, he switched off the digital chronometer by his bedside to avoid watching the slow passage of time.

Finn's boredom was broken by routine visits from Dr. Kalonia. She had stopped injecting bacta into his spine and had even stripped him of the bacta suit; although, she still had to spread the thick gel along his back and shoulder blade. When she wasn't administering bacta gel, Dr. Kalonia was introducing him to physical therapy exercises to speed along his recovery. When they were done with the simple leg stretches, Finn was left covered in sweat and in pain, which was abated when she gave him nyex. The painkiller would put him to sleep.

When he awoke, Poe was usually at his bedside, and BB-8 would roll around the room, chirping excitedly.

“He wants to tell you about Bespin,” Poe explained when Finn gave the tiny droid an inquisitive look once a long series of beeps sounded.

“Oh.” Finn gave BB-8 a apologetic smile. “I promise I'll learn binary.”

“BB-8 would like that,” Poe said, beaming, “Until then, I'm more than happy to be your translator.”

“You don't have to do that,” protested Finn, “I'm sure you have other things to do.”

Poe shrugged. “A few things. None more important than helping you.”

Finn ducked his head to hide his grin and accompanying blush. Poe often said things alluding to how important Finn was, and the statements always left Finn feeling embarrassed. He didn't think he was anything special—certainly not important enough to warrant Poe's undivided attention. Finn wondered what other members of the Resistance thought of Poe's treatment of Finn. Did they find it strange? Had they asked Poe to keep an eye on him? Surely there were some who were suspicious of a stormtrooper being in their midst—defected or not. Was Poe acting as a guard to keep Finn from accessing any Resistance secrets?

“How was physical therapy?” asked Poe, tearing Finn from his thoughts.

Poe's eyes were the color of the Jakku horizon. Of a crashlanding in the dunes. They burned bright, exuding a warmth Finn had never known. He felt silly for thinking that Poe would suspect him of being a traitor to the Resistance. Poe said he was glad to have Finn, and Poe didn't lie.

“Painful,” answered Finn, making a face.

Poe chuckled, “It'll get better, buddy. Once you're done, you might even be strong enough to pin me down.”

Finn scoffed, “I could do that now. I could lift you up with one arm.”

“Didn't realize when reconnaissance said the First Order had huge guns, they were talking about you,” teased Poe, poking at Finn's bicep.

“Clearly, the Resistance needs better intel,” laughed Finn.

Even if he felt guilty for stealing Poe away from his duties, Finn was thankful for his company. Poe was easy to talk to. Whenever Finn had a question, he was always happy to answer it, and his answers usually turned into long personal stories. If Poe wasn't a pilot, Finn decided the man would make a great storyteller. His stories were always animated; his hands would move exuberantly while he talked, and sometimes he would even make ridiculous sound effects for emphasis. His eyes would crinkle when he laughed or smiled with his toothy grin.

BB-8 whirred in irritation by Poe's feet.

“Sorry, pal,” said Poe, his laughter dying. “I forgot you wanted to tell Finn about Bespin.” Finn grinned and settled more comfortably against his pile of pillows to listen to Poe. “Okay, so Bespin is actually a pretty inhospitable planet. It's a gas giant, but the atmosphere is habitable. Mostly mining colonies for tibanna. That's what Cloud City started as.”

“Why is the Resistance going to a mining colony?”

“Because of Lando Calrissian!”

Finn blinked.

“Lando.” Poe waved his hands. “He was a smuggler who joined the Rebel Alliance. Helped blow up the second Death Star. He's the administrator of Cloud City; although, that's all off the record in case the First Order starts snooping around and hunting down old members of the Alliance. Officially, Lando Calrissian hasn't had anything to do with Cloud City since his betrayal of Han. Unofficially, however—”

Finn scrunched his face in confusion. “Wait. He betrayed Han? Han Solo? Why are we trusting him?”

Poe's eyes were crinkled in delight. “You've never heard the story about what happened at Cloud City? Oh, buddy, wait till you hear it….”

Before Finn could respond, Poe was rambling on, breaking down the story of Cloud City, which conveniently started on Hoth—on the Echo Base that Poe had told him about. When the Rebels fled Hoth, _The Millennium Falcon_ was pursued by the Empire and in desperate need of repairs. Han Solo brought them to Cloud City where his old friend Lando was. Unfortunately, the Empire and Darth Vader had beat them to Lando who then sold them out.

Darth Vader used Han, Leia, Chewbacca, and C-3PO to set a trap for Luke Skywalker. Han was tortured before he was sent to be frozen in carbonite and given to the bounty hunter Boba Fett who would take Han to Jabba the Hutt.

“Everyone knows this.” Poe was practically bouncing in his seat. “Cloud City is where Leia told Han she loved him.”

“How did Han react?” Finn asked, not sure if he was more invested in the story or the excitement bubbling in Poe because of the story. What he meant to ask was how someone on the brink of death said goodbye to people they loved. He meant to ask how someone dealt with grief.

“He said ‘I know.’”

Finn frowned. “That's it?”

Even though he had met Han Solo, it was hard to imagine the man being so dismissive in a situation like that.

“That's it?” Poe threw up his hands. “Finn, don't you see? The beauty in it? The beauty in accepting death. Accepting death for the sake of someone you love. Letting them know it's no longer about you. It's about them. Letting them have closure. Letting them move on. It's selfless, Finn.”

“How do you know all of this?” Were these stories in history books? Was Finn that ignorant of the galaxy?

“I grew up with them,” explained Poe, “My parents were in the Rebel Alliance. This was their history. My mom would tell me all the stories. About Han and Leia and Luke and Lando. About the pilots who took on the Death Stars. All the heroes.”

Finn bit his lip. “And will you tell me them? All the stories your mother told you. I want to hear them.”

Poe's eyes sparkled. “If you want to hear them, buddy….”

“I do.” Finn nodded. “I want to hear them all.”

“You know what my favorite story is?”

“What?”

Poe leaned in closer. “The one where a dashing Resistance pilot was captured by the First Order. And a stormtrooper pulled him aside, took off his helmet, and saved him.”

Finn's heart fluttered in his chest. He looked away and mumbled, “That was nothing. Just did the right thing.”

“Finn,” said Poe, all playfulness receding from his voice, “The galaxy is going to tell stories about the hero who left the First Order to fight for the Resistance. They're going to tell stories about Finn.”

Until Poe had told him about Cloud City, Finn had never thought about stories that centered on heroes. On righteousness and perseverance and hope. And now Poe was telling him there would be stories about him. Not FN-2187, but Finn.

He quashed the urge to argue with Poe. It was nice having someone who believed in him even if he didn't think he was the stuff stories and legends were made of. “You know,” he said casually, “I'm surprised your X-Wing can even make it in the air considering how big your head is. The _dashing_ Resistance pilot?” He arched an inquisitive brow.

Poe laughed, unabashed, “The dashing Resistance pilot and the beautiful man underneath the helmet. It's no Cloud City, but it'll do.”

* * *

 Rey followed Luke down the tall peak of the island to a small plateau where there was a tight conglomeration of corbelled stone huts. The settlement was probably ancient, judging by the crumbling stone of the structures. Wind and rain had worn away at the mortar of some of the huts, leaving open slits in the structure, and the elements had rendered much of the stone paths smooth. Avian-like creatures pattered around the settlement, conversing with one another in a foreign language. Long white robes covered their gray skin and skinny feet. They watched Rey as she trailed after Luke, muttering to each other.

The hut Luke retreated into looked no different than the other structures except he had affixed a door onto his with what looked like a salvaged S-foil from a T-65 X-Wing. The door swung shut before Rey could follow him.

“Master Skywalker,” she pleaded, “we need you. Your sister asked me to bring you back. I'm not leaving.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked on the other side of the door, “Face down the First Order alone with a lightsaber? It doesn't work that way.”

Rey stamped her foot in frustration. “If you won't come with me, don't you think your sister deserves to know why? That we all deserve to know why the legendary Luke Skywalker abandoned us in our hour of need?”

She must have struck a nerve because the door to Luke's hut swung open, and Rey took a surprised step backwards. In the dark shadows of the hut, Luke looked even wilder. Almost dangerous. Without a word, he ushered her inside. Bars of sunlight filtered in through the slits in the rock where the mortar had worn away. Rey's eyes adjusted to the dimness of the hovel, which was a single room sparsely furnished with a bed, a table, and a bench. Knickknacks were scattered throughout: cookpots, bottles, salvaged X-Wing parts, a pack bulging with its contents, and a walking stick leaning against the wall.

“The legendary Luke Skywalker,” he practically spit out the name as Rey seated herself on the bench, “can't save anyone these days. Couldn't save my own nephew. I failed Leia. I failed Han. And I failed Ben.”

“What happened?”

Luke pulled his fraying robes tighter around himself and collapsed onto the cot. “I was the one who trained him. I had a small academy set up. I had other students with potential. But Kylo had the most potential. He was ambitious. Thirsted for knowledge. In him, I saw it. A small hint of darkness. I ignored it. Even as that darkness swelled, I ignored what I saw. I had seen the light in my father even when everyone thought there was no light left. I believed in that, though. How could I not extend that same belief to my nephew?

“I never even told Leia I had suspected it—not until it was too late, anyways. I set him off. I snapped at him. He’d started asking increasingly about Darth Vader—not Anakin Skywalker, mind you. He always made a distinction between them. Was obsessed with the light and dark as separate entities. I finally berated him. I didn't want to talk about my father anymore. I didn't want to talk about any of it.” Luke's voice was heavy and filled with defeat. “I ignored the darkness I saw in him. That night, I awoke to the temple in flames. My students slaughtered. The Knights of Ren had gathered.”

“Who are the Knights of Ren?” Rey asked timidly.

“Militant Force-users who do Snoke's bidding.”

Rey cleared her throat, “D-did they turn Kylo Ren to the Dark Side?”

Luke laughed, a bitter noise, “No one turned Kylo Ren. No one needed to. Didn’t you hear what I said? He willingly reached out to the darkness. Embraced it. Kylo Ren wanted it, and I had been too blinded by love to care.”

“Blinded by hope is not something to be ashamed of,” insisted Rey. Unconsciously, she clenched her fists, thinking about how Kylo Ren had made a choice to become a monster. How could anyone choose darkness? Why would someone seek pain?

On Jakku, Rey had known many with hard constitutions. Those filled with greed. Those who jeered at the less fortunate. Even the unctuous junkboss Unkar Plutt seemed friendly when she thought of the black-robed figure who ordered the destruction of entire planets. Who watched over genocide without regret. Who tortured others and hurt them.

“I allowed Kylo Ren to become what he is,” Luke finished, “I can't let the Jedi Order continue. I can't let my failures be repeated. I won't let them.”

“What about the Force?” asked Rey, “What about me?”

Luke stood up from the bed and motioned at the door for her to leave. His eyes, sad and pitiful, seemed apologetic. “The Force does not belong to the Jedi. It is the energy that binds the galaxy together. Claiming it for the Jedi was folly.”

Rey let herself be herded from the hut. The makeshift door slammed shut. Overhead, the sky had turned the color of a bruise. Clouds swirled, and a deep rumbling echoed across the island. The waves slapped at the shore more intensely, and Rey could smell a dampness in the air. She hurried down the hills back to _The Millennium Falcon._

Chewie and Artoo knew Luke better than she did. Maybe they would have some suggestions on how to persuade Luke to leave his anguish behind on Ahch-To. She wished Han Solo was with them. He was the one Leia had meant to send. He would know what to do.

Rey was just a nobody from Jakku—not the person a legendary Jedi Master would rally behind.

* * *

  _The Raddus_ was preparing to leave hyperspace and enter sub-lightspeed as the ship neared Bespin. General Leia Organa called Poe to the bridge to assist in overseeing their departure from hyperspace and their subsequent landing on Bespin. Poe apologized profusely to Finn as he was summoned, and Finn had to assure him, with only slight exasperation, that he didn’t need to apologize for doing his duty.

“Believe me,” Finn said, “I wish I could run around the ship and help with landing preparations.”

“Once Dr. Kalonia clears you, you can have whatever position you'd like,” Poe assured him. To Finn, Poe always seemed eager and optimistic, yet sometimes Finn thought all that overzealousness looked like a coping mechanism. A way to keep moving forward. Finn would know.

Every time he had exited one of the training simulators, having killed the virtual enemies, he felt squeamish and empty. He felt drained, but he could never let Phasma or any other superior officer know. He forced himself to keep moving. He would throw all his energy into routine target practice or his sanitation duties or his morning physical regiment. Anything to forget the way the bodies had fallen to the ground. Even if they weren't real, they haunted Finn's dreams as a cadet. They could've been real. They were supposed to prepare him for real bodies.

He had never grown comfortable shooting down the simulated beings, but he kept moving. He faked it. He threw himself into his duties, and no one noticed. Phasma even applauded him, saying he would move up the ranks with his potential. Because of that, she assigned Finn to join the party heading to Jakku.

Finn knew what faking it looked like, and he knew Poe was faking it. But he didn’t say anything to Poe as the man exited the medbay. Maybe whatever he was going through had to do with what Dr. Kalonia called “being smitten.” She also said he hadn't been sleeping. Finn made a mental note to resolve that and ensure Poe got some sleep.

“You look terrible, kid.”

Finn looked up to see Han Solo standing in the threshold where Poe had been moments before. He held himself stiffly and shuffled into the room awkwardly, yet he looked okay. It was as if he had never been sliced up by a lightsaber.

“Heard you're the one responsible for saving my life,” Han said, “Guess I owe you one.”

Finn shook his head. “No, you don't. I just—it was the right thing to do.”

Han shrugged and plopped himself in the chair Poe had vacated. “Right thing or not, I still owe you one.”

“How are you doing?” asked Finn, noticing the stiff way Han sat in the chair, and the awkward way he moved his hand. The severed limb had been replaced with a prosthetic, and Finn could see the tautness of the synthetic skin.

“Me? I could wrestle a gundark,” Han said, “No need to worry about me. I'm a survivor. I've lived through wars before, and I reckon I'll live through this one.”

“So you're staying?” Finn asked.

Han's expression was pensive. “For a time. Why? Still looking for a ship to outrun the First Order?”

“No! Nothing like that,” said Finn, shaking his head.

He was staying. That was his decision. Maybe some part of him still wanted to run, to escape the death and destruction the First Order wrought. Another part of him wanted to end this war. For Poe. For Rey. For the children in the galaxy who had yet to be kidnapped by the First Order. Finn hadn't realized he wanted to fight for them until he thought about the trooper lives lost on Starkiller Base.

How many of those troopers had he known? How many had he trained with? How many more children would the First Order kidnap to replenish their foot soldiers?

“Well, if you change your mind, I'll fly you wherever you want. No judgements.”

Finn frowned. “Aren't you invested in the Resistance?”

“Married to it is more like,” Han muttered and then chuckled, “My entire involvement with these things has been me being in the wrong place at the right time.”

Remembering Jakku and Takodana, Finn realized he knew exactly what Han Solo was talking about. Being in wrong place at the right time had led him to Rey and BB-8 and even Han Solo. It had led him to the Resistance. To this new life of his. As Poe would call it, the life of Finn the Hero.

* * *

 Poe and C-3PO flanked Leia as the trio exited _The Raddus_ , strolling down the docking ramp and onto the landing platform of Cloud City. Leia would have greeted Lando by herself, but she figured the meeting would do Poe some good. He wanted to keep busy, and Leia was glad to assist him with that. Besides, she figured she would reward him for listening to her orders and sleeping. It might encourage him to get more rest.

Poe Dameron idolized the Rebel Alliance—or at least the parts that Shara Bey and Kes Dameron had told him stories of. He grew up listening to the stories and was always excited to meet one of the characters from them. Leia could remember when Poe had been a young boy meeting Han Solo for the first time. Han had let the boy explore _The Millennium Falcon_ , and Poe toddled around the ship, exploring every nook and cranny. In contrast, Leia remembered with a heavy heart how Ben had never took to _The Falcon_. At young age, he treated it with indifference; as he grew older, that indifference turned to hostility, and he would openly point out _The Falcon's_ flaws.

“Look who’s always bringing trouble to my door,” laughed Lando Calrissian, extending his arms as if to make a point.

Leia rolled her eyes. Lando was the same as always. He had aged as they all had, but the smile on his face was the same sure and confident grin from his youth. A powder blue cape trailed behind him complementing the pearly white shirt he wore. “You know I wouldn't have come if my need was anything less than dire.”

“I would be honored to serve you again, princess.” He flourished an exaggerated bow, his mustache twitching above a wry grin. “The quiet life gets boring.”

“You? Leading a quiet life?” Leia laughed, “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Beside Leia, Poe seemed to be thrumming with a mixture of awe and excitement. His eyes were as wide as saucers watching Lando Calrissian.

“Speaking of quiet lives, where's that loser you shacked up with?” Lando asked.

“Han is onboard,” said Leia. If she thought she had missed laughing with Han, she realized she missed laughing with Lando as well. She missed them all. “He's injured.”

“The damsel in distress is lucky he has you to save him constantly. If it's not carbonite, it's something else.”

“I seem to recall you had a bit of a hand in that mess,” teased Leia.

Lando held up his hands in defeat. “Point taken. So what do you need?”

“We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next story to be updated is Seeing Blind.
> 
> And the next chapter of this will include a plan being hatched, Finn and Poe at Cloud City, and a visit from a Force ghost.


	4. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Find me,” Poe told him, reaching over suddenly and grabbing Finn's hand. “Find me, and I will remind you what's real, Finn. Like this—” He gestured to their entwined hands. “—this is real. This will always be real. No matter when it happens, look for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my lovely and patient readers. Thanks for your kudos and comments and overall support for my attempt at a TLJ rewrite.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up or follow me on my tumblr: huttslut.

CHAPTER THREE:

ATONEMENT

Following Lando Calrissian, the group left the landing pad and picked their way through the streets of Cloud City, bustling with the activity of sightseeing tourists, miners on their breaks, and support staff carrying out daily maintenance. Security officers were strategically positioned throughout the surface-level plaza concourse; Lando must have noticed Poe warily eying the officers because he quickly explained that the city had implemented heightened security measures due to an increase in pickpockets and gangs of thieves preying on naïve tourists.

Lando offered Poe a reassuring smile, but he kept his hand on the holster of his gun. He trusted Lando Calrissian; Leia trusted him, and his parents had trusted him. In fact, his mother had been under Lando Calrissian's command during the skirmish with the second Death Star. His father always credited Lando for his and Shara's survival.

“If it hadn't been for General Calrissian, the Death Star would've fired on Endor, and I would never have seen your mother again,” Kes had told him, “I thank him everyday for that. Because of him, we survived. Because of him, we were able to come home to you.”

Poe trusted Lando Calrissian, but he didn't know what type of First Order presence was on Bespin. If any of them recognized the Resistance's founder and general, Leia Organa-Solo, they wouldn't hesitate to attack. Poe wasn't going to let any First Order scum near the general as long as he was alive. If there were anyone worth dying for in the galaxy, it was Leia.

They followed Lando from tightly packed streets bordered by towering skyscrapers and other sharply angular industrial buildings to an emptier district filled with lavish green parks, detailed statues and monuments, and fluid buildings that looked more like art. Most of the buildings were made of marble, glistening like pearls in the bright Bespin morning. Some of them even looked like pearls, with their curving walls and domed roofs; others seemed to have been sculpted to resemble curling waves or shells, which complemented the ornate fountains scattered along the street corners.

Without the heavy throng of people around, Poe breathed a sigh of relief, and eased up the grip on his holster. Even Threepio was grateful for the spacious district they had entered, prattling on about the lack of manners of people who had been shouldering past the droid and bumping into him. Poe wasn't listening, but he gave Threepio an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“The Administrator’s Palace,” Lando announced to them, holding out his hands to emphasize the rounded white building at which they had arrived. Surrounding the walls was an intricately carved colonnade that separated the palace from the gardens. A brief glance at the gardens showed Poe an assortment of flowers and shrubs and trees—some that he recognized and others he would never have even imagined.

“All imported,” explained Lando, “There's even some starflowers and chinar trees from Alderaan.”

Past the gardens, they entered the palace and followed Lando up a lift to one of the higher levels, down several more curving corridors, and finally into a lavish conference room that Lando explained was used to negotiate mining contracts or to greet visiting ambassadors. Like the rest of the Administrator's Palace , the conference room was comprised of ostentatious artwork along the walls, curving furniture that mimicked the palace's architecture, and elaborate sculptures.

The four of them took seats at the round glass table, and even though they had come to Lando for help, all eyes naturally fell on Leia.

“The Resistance needs help,” Leia said, “We dealt a heavy blow to the First Order, but we've also suffered losses. The Republic might not be able to help. After what happened on Hosnian Prime, they are running around frantically searching for leadership. For someone to make peace with the First Order. They'll be reluctant to retaliate. Won't want to suffer more losses.”

Lando frowned and drummed his fingers on the glass. “I can set you up here for a few weeks at most—any longer might draw attention to your presence. And I can probably divest some funds into your pockets, but not the amount you need. I'm not sure what else I can do for you.”

“Funds.” Leia nodded. “That's a start.”

“Like I said, I can get you some, but not what you'll need.”

“What about connections?”

Lando ran two fingers along his mustache, humming. “That I could probably do. I might be able to get you in contact with some investors.”

Poe perked up. “What kind of investors?”

“It won't be easy,” Lando warned, his eyes still trained on Leia, but a wry smile split on his face. “It'd almost be like walking straight into a Sarlacc pit—or at least as difficult as infiltrating a Hutt's palace.”

“Difficult,” Leia said smoothly, “but doable.”

Lando leaned in closer, lowering his voice, “The Administrator of Cloud City received an invite not too long ago. The First Order has always been looking to curry favor with the city—be it for the mining, the gambling, or the tourism. A gala is being thrown. Real high-class stuff. Trying to find more connections. More planets to support their cause.”

“Politics as usual,” noted Leia.

“Now, Lobot wasn't going to accept the invite, but I can have him respond. If we can get you into the gala, you'll be able to find some wealthy benefactor sympathetic to your cause.”

Poe wanted to laugh. “Without the First Order discovering us?”

Lando shrugged. “Never said it would be easy, kid.”

“Commander,” Leia corrected Lando, “Commander Poe Dameron.”

Lando conceded, “My apologies, Commander Dameron.”

Poe felt his face heat up, but he wasn't sure why. He felt a strange glow of happiness at Leia's insistence for his title. He had worked hard for the rank, and her acknowledgement of that made him swell with pride. Trying to remain nonchalant, he brushed it off. “No problem, General Calrissian.”

“General?” Lando laughed—a gruff, yet exuberant, sound. “I haven't heard that in ages.”

“It sounds nice, though, doesn't it?” asked Leia.

“Hey,” Lando said pointedly, “I told you I would help you find funding. That doesn't mean I'm enlisting in another of your wild plots.”

Poe opened his mouth to protest. Leia's Resistance was not a wild plot, but a worthy cause. The same cause his parents had spent their lives fighting. However, he closed his mouth when Leia shot him a sharp look.

She stood up abruptly. “Thank you, Lando. Both for the information and the hospitality. Threepio and I will let everyone know. Commander Dameron can stay behind, and you can brief him about the gala.”

She and Lando embraced briefly before she led the gold protocol droid from the room. Lando watched her go, an amused grin on his face. “She hasn't changed much,” he remarked. Then he turned his calculating stare on Poe. “Did she say your name was Dameron?”

Poe blinked in surprise. Now he knew why Leia had been insistent on his title….

“You're Kes and Shara's boy,” Lando said.

Poe nodded even if it wasn't a question. “I am. My parents told me stories about you, y'know?”

Lando chuckled, “All flattering, I hope.”

“More flattering than the truth, I'm sure,” Poe said casually. He needed to steer the conversation to what he wanted to talk to Lando about. It had occurred to him on _The Raddus_ while he was recounting the history of the Rebellion and Lando Calrissian's involvement in it to Finn.

Lando had betrayed Han Solo. He had betrayed the Rebel Alliance, yet he atoned for his mistakes. He redeemed himself and found a place in the history books. Poe needed to know if something like that were possible for him. Could he remedy the mistakes he had made? The ones that haunted him in the middle of the night. The ones that wouldn't let him sleep.

Lando seemed to know what he meant. He appeared to deflate, all energy and panache leaving him. “You're talking about what happened the first time Han and Leia came to me for help.”

Poe bit his lip. “Sort of. My parents didn't talk much about it.”

“And yet you know.”

“Only because I need to know,” beseeched Poe, “I need to know how you came back from that.”

Lando stepped forward, dark eyes studying Poe as though he were nothing more than ship schematics. “You seem a good leader, Dameron. A strong commander. Leia trusts you. So what do you need to know about atonement?”

“I…betrayed the Resistance,” whispered Poe, avoiding Lando's knowing eyes. “When I was captured, Ren pulled knowledge from me. Knowledge I should never have let him have. I put the Resistance in danger.”

Lando sighed and gripped Poe's shoulder. “You couldn't have stopped him, kid.”

“Sometimes I still feel him in my mind,” admitted Poe, squeezing his eyes shut. “He's always there. Picking through my brain. It feels like razors, slicing through my mind. I can't stop him.”

“After what I did, I threw myself into helping out the Rebellion. Into saving Han. I couldn't change what I had done, but I knew I could make better choices. Help people out instead of betraying or hurting them.” Lando gave Poe one last clap on his shoulder. “Other than that, there's nothing you can do. Nothing you _need_ to do. What happened wasn't your fault. Your parents would be proud of you, Poe.”

Poe nodded and swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. He shrugged away from Lando's hand. “Uh…back to business, then? About this gala?”

Lando chuckled, “Just like Shara….”

* * *

 On Ahch-To, the storm raged on into the night. The sky changed from the color of a bruise to the color of tar and swirled with tumultuous clouds. Thunder clapped, echoing across the jagged peaks of the island; its rumbling seemed to shake the stone hut, but Luke was used to the ferocious weather. He glanced through one of the cracks in the mortar, trying to spot the familiar shape of _The Millennium Falcon_ through the downpour.

He closed his eyes and reached out cautiously, searching in the night for the ship. But as lively as the ship had always been—with its temperamental wiring and stubborn controls—it was not a living thing, and he could not touch it through the flows of the Force.

 _Luke_.

He jumped, breaking the connection. He rarely reached out to embrace the Force anymore, and the woman's voice whispering his name was a reminder as to why. It was Leia. Luke couldn't face her. Couldn't admit what he had allowed to happen.

“You've come a long way from saving the galaxy,” a voice said, making him whirl around.

Lounging on his bed was a spirit, seemingly composed of wispy lights of a blue-gray. The form coalesced and properly arranged itself into an image of his father, Anakin Skywalker. His father had often come to him—more frequently since his isolation on Ahch-To. Sometimes he came as Luke had seen him before his death. Other times he returned as the man he would've been had he resisted the temptation of the Dark Side and grown old. Tonight he came to Luke as a young Jedi with tousled blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a knowing smile.

Luke glared at the spirit of his father. “And who do you think I was saving the galaxy from?”

“I was a monster,” Anakin conceded, “but you aren't, son. You don't deserve this pain and punishment you've sentenced yourself to.”

“You're wrong.”

“Now you sound like Obi-Wan,” murmured Anakin with a grimace. “He was always saying that to me. Granted I was wrong about a lot of things. But not this, Luke.”

“I can't go back,” explained Luke, sitting down on a chair and watching his father. “I can't face Leia. What I did is unforgiveable.”

“All you did, you did because you love your family. You refused to believe your nephew willingly set down a dark path. Luke, your greatest strength is your capacity to love. There is no shame in that.”

Luke snorted, “Lots of good that's done me.”

Anakin stared at him, a small smile forming on his youthful face. “You're so much like your mother. I knew it when you surrendered on Endor. She believed there was good in me too. She believed in the light until she died.”

Under his father's gaze, Luke shifted uncomfortably. His father never spoke of his mother, Padmé, and Luke didn't ask. He wondered if his father had reunited with his mother in death. Luke liked to think that was a possibility. He thought of those he wanted to reunite with: Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru, and Biggs Darklighter.

“You cannot save everyone, Luke. But don't push away the people who love you. I did that, and it allowed the Dark Side to twist my heart and poison my mind.”

“I saved you!” Luke insisted. He had saved Darth Vader, but couldn't save his nephew.

“You brought me back to the light, Luke. That doesn't erase all the atrocities I committed as Darth Vader—”

“I forgave you, father.”

Anakin beamed. “Just like your mother. She was forgiving to a fault. You're just like her. You're a forgiving person, Luke, and it's time to forgive yourself.”

The spirit of his father flickered, briefly transforming into the pasty shell of a man he had been when Luke had pulled off his helmet, a reminder of who exactly Luke had forgiven, before vanishing in thin air.

Furiously, Luke blinked away tears as he thought about the first and only time he would look upon his father's eyes. As he thought of the hollow pieces inside his heart that ached for the dead. As he thought about the empty black eyes of Ben Solo as his nephew tried to kill him after slaughtering the other students.

Another memory flourished in his mind, but he quickly pushed it away, refusing to let the seed plant itself properly. He couldn't think of that. It was just another reason he was here, and he didn't want to dwell on it—at least, not awake. He visited the moment every night in his dreams.

* * *

 Returning to _The Raddus_ , Leia stopped by the bridge to debrief her officers on the situation. She explained that there was a light upon the horizon, but did not go into details. Most of the members didn't even know the exact whereabouts of Admiral Ackbar and Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo. After Poe's capture, she had decided to disseminate information on a need-to-know basis, so if anyone was tortured for information, the entire Resistance would not be compromised.

He didn't say much about what had happened to him, but she could see the feelings of shame and disappointment in his eyes when he looked at her. He thought he had failed her. Nothing she could say would soothe him and dispel those feelings. Poe Dameron was as stubborn as his mother. And just as loyal.

Lobot, the acting administrator of Cloud City, had intercepted her on the way out of the palace, giving her cloaking devices for the ships to keep the First Order from discovering them. The landing pads their ships occupied would then be marked as temporarily inoperative. Lobot had also given her the instructions to where they would be staying, along with a map, but Leia didn't need the map.

After what had happened to Han, Leia had spent hours going over all the schematics to Cloud City, trying to convince herself there could have been a way to avoid the trap. In her mind, she could still see the maps of the city: the concourse she had just walked through, the landing pads, the administrative levels where they would be staying, the factory levels, the Tibanna gas processing plants where the carbon freezing chambers were located.

Leaving instructions to unload _The Raddus_ , Leia left the bridge, making her way back to the medbay where Han was. He was sitting up in his bed, curling and uncurling the fingers of his new hand, frowning. She sat on the edge of his bed and placed her hand over his prosthetic one, ceasing his movements.

“How's Lando?” he asked, still staring at the hand.

“Better than you,” Leia said, nudging him playfully, “He has both his hands.”

Han smiled, but the grin didn't reach his eyes.

“Are you alright, Han?”

“Wouldn't you prefer to be with someone…whole?” His voice was a low murmur, and he avoided looking at her, eyes still fixated on his hand.

“Whole?” Leia laughed, “Is there even such a thing anymore?”

Han groaned, “You know what I mean, Leia.”

“I know what you mean, Han.” She adjusted her own hand to hold his properly, lacing their fingers together. “And you're being a laser-brain if you think I love you any less because you lost a limb.”

Han's forehead still had creases of worry, and his eyes still seemed vacant, but he looked over at her with that same cheeky grin she had fallen in love with. “You still love me?”

“I do,” admitted Leia, “I love you.”

“I know,” he smirked and leaned over to close the distance between them.

Han kissed the same as he had when they first met. Focused and passionate, as though nothing else existed in the galaxy except them. And just as before, Leia lost herself a little. With Han's lips on hers, she could forget—even if just for a moment—the perils the Resistance faced. She could forget the heavy grief in her heart. She could forget her responsibilities. The losses in her life. The years of separation from him.

With his prosthetic, he squeezed her hand experimentally. The weight was different, and his grip was a bit tight, but it was all still familiar to Leia. She would never forget his touch. She would never let grief separate them again. She had almost lost him. She wouldn't lose anyone else.

* * *

 Finn felt stiff. He stood up from the bed and stretched in an attempt to loosen the tension that had built up in his body as a result of being bedridden. Only moments ago, Dr. Kalonia had entered to explain to him that they were relocating the medical bay to a suite within the administrative levels of Cloud City. After much begging and a few of his leg exercises as proof, Finn convinced Dr. Kalonia to let him walk down to the suite himself.

“Take small steps,” she had told him with a look that said she would know if he disobeyed. “I want you walking slower than a baby Jawa.”

Finn nodded. He knew a little about Jawas from the reels the First Order showed them: tiny brown-robed creatures. The First Order had called them vermin and filthy scavengers who were notorious for theft. Finn had never questioned that statement, but now he did. After all, Rey had been a scavenger on Jakku, and she wasn't vermin or a thief. She was a survivor, and there was no shame in survival.

The Resistance was filled with survivors, and Finn felt a sense of belonging with that knowledge.

Carefully, he made his way out of _The Raddus_. It took much longer than it would have normally, but his steps were infinitesimal—only a hairsbreadth apart. But it felt nice to be out of bed. He felt a rejuvenated sense of purpose and hoped this small feat of his would ease up Dr. Kalonia's treatment of him. She treated him like something fragile that would break on impact, and Finn wasn't used to it. Had he sustained such an injury with the First Order, he doubted they would have wasted resources trying to heal him. If bacta didn't work, then a stormtrooper was beyond saving. The First Order didn't have time for liabilities.

Finn made it across the landing pad and into a lift that took him down to Level 187—part of the administrative levels. Dr. Kalonia said Lando Calrissian had set aside the entire level for the Resistance, posting that Level 187 was under maintenance.

The corridor was a long curve comprised of white-paneled walls. Inside some of the panels were lights, which bathed the hall in a pale ivory glow. Cloud City was vastly different from the Resistance base on D'Qar. Everything looked clean and sterile, which made Finn feel more comfortable. He wasn't used to the dirt and grime that had seemingly defined Resistance life. The walls of the underground base on D'Qar had been packed with soil and lined with thick tree roots. As far as his eye could see there wasn't a speck of dirt marring the white of Cloud City.

He took another step and immediately stiffened. His spine suddenly felt like lead—rigid and immovable. His knees shook and buckled beneath him, and Finn found himself sprawled on the cool floor. His back throbbed, and his legs felt numb. The hallway disappeared.

Finn found himself in a dark forest, a crumpled mass in the snow. A red glow bathed him, and a dark shadow peered down at his body. Heart pounding, Finn tried to move. Tried to get up and face the monster, but his body was unresponsive. The wind screamed in his ears, blowing more snow on his body. Desperately, he tried to wriggle away, but he was frozen. The red light was blinding. The wind screeched. More snow fell, and it entombed Finn. He couldn’t escape the frozen prison. He tried to breathe. Darkness fell.

“Finn, buddy, I need you to breathe,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

He tried to tell the voice that he couldn't. That he was being buried alive in the snow. The monster with the red light was going to kill him. But the only noise that escaped him was a gurgle.

“Finn, please breathe for me, buddy. I've got you.” The voice was frenzied. “But I need you to breathe for me.”

The voice…. Finn recognized the voice. It was the same encouraging voice from the cockpit of a TIE Fighter. The same relieved voice from a landing strip on D'Qar. A soft and patient voice punctuated by laughter from the medical bay. Finn would know that voice anywhere.

He breathed and murmured, “Poe?”

“That's it, buddy. Breathe with me.”

“Poe,” Finn said groggily as the darkness began to dissipate from his vision, “you're here.”

“Always.”

Finn's eyes snapped open, and the dizziness subsided. He was in a blindingly white hallway, propped against the wall. Poe was crouched in front of him, eyes wide with worry and hands on his shoulders as though anchoring him to this moment. Anchoring him to reality.

“What happened?”

“I don't know,” answered Poe with a relieved sigh. “I just found you on the ground. Are you okay?”

“I think.” Finn moved to stand up, and Poe immediately hoisted Finn up, throwing one of Finn's arms around his neck for support. Poe's body was warm, and Finn tried to wriggle closer. He could still feel the tingling cold of the snowy forest.

“C'mon, I'll get you to the medbay,” said Poe, tightening one of his arms around Finn's waist.

Finn's legs still felt numb, and he tried to concentrate on moving them, but Poe didn't seem to notice that he was practically dragging Finn along.

“Sorry,” Finn muttered lamely.

“For what?”

“For having to take care of me. I’m sorry if I'm a burden.”

Poe snorted, “So you can save my life, but I can't help you out while you recover? Want the limelight all for yourself then?”

Finn blushed. Of course Poe wouldn't think he was burden. Poe cared about people so deeply that he risked his life with the Resistance to ensure other people could have peace in their lives.

With Poe supporting him, they made their way down the curving corridor and into the room that would become the impromptu medical bay for the Resistance. Already the room was packed with beds and stretchers as well as equipment. Resistance members milled about setting up equipment or walking around with a datapad to record inventory. Finn was relieved to see Dr. Kalonia hadn't arrived yet. He didn't want her knowing about his episode; it would only set his recovery back.

Poe led him to a bed and helped Finn climb into it before he began adjusting the pillows for Finn and tugging blankets over his body.

Finn looked up at Poe. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, sure. Anything,” said Poe quickly. With the room lacking chairs, Poe sidled up onto the edge of the bed to sit, swiveling his body to look at Finn.

“When I fell,” explained Finn, “I suddenly felt like I wasn't here anymore. Like suddenly I was back in the forest with Ren, and I couldn't move. And I know I wasn't really there, but it felt so real, Poe. I could hear the wind and feel the snow. I could sense Ren. The danger felt real. Everything did.”

Poe's expression seemed pinched and worried. “H-how did you escape the danger? How did you realize it wasn't real?”

“You,” said Finn with a shrug. “I heard your voice, and I recognized it.”

“My voice?” stammered Poe, but Finn thought he saw the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, it just reminded me what was real.” Finn stared at Poe pleadingly. “Poe, what happened? Is something wrong with me?” He didn't want to have to tell Dr. Kalonia about this unless it was necessary.

“Nothing is wrong with you, pal,” Poe said softly, “It was the trauma. Sometimes, people experience a traumatic event, and the experience never really leaves them. Sometimes, you get flashbacks or nightmares that bring you back to it.”

“How do I make it stop?” Finn didn't want to see Kylo Ren in the forest every time he closed his eyes. He would much prefer to see Rey or BB-8 or Poe in his dreams.

Poe shrugged, and he seemed sad. “Wish I knew, buddy. Wish I knew.”

“So what do I do about them?”

“Find me,” Poe told him, reaching over suddenly and grabbing Finn's hand. “Find me, and I will remind you what's real, Finn. Like this—” He gestured to their entwined hands. “— _this_ is real. This will always be real. No matter when it happens, look for me.”

Finn nodded. He squeezed Poe's hand, reminding himself that this was Poe. Poe was real and in front of him. He wanted to memorize the feel of Poe's hand in his. The warmth of it. The calluses on his fingers. A puckered scar that ran between his thumb and finger. He stored those details in his mind, so he would always know the feel and shape of Poe's hand. So he would always know what was real.

“I'll find you,” Finn promised.

* * *

 The waves continued to crash against the shore in the black night. Torrents of rain fell from the sky. However, the low growl of thunder started to recede as the storm moved away from the island. Without the monstrous booms in the sky, Rey felt bold enough to slip out of _The Millennium Falcon_ and investigate what Chewbacca had called a thunderstorm.

Wearing a flowing poncho, which had been in the bundle of clothes that Leia had found for Rey, she carefully walked down the ship's ramp and onto the beach. Cool drops of water dripped onto her face. She laughed with glee and tipped her head back, trying to catch a droplet in her mouth.

Water had never been so easy to come by on Jakku. Rey could scour the desert for hours without even finding a puddle. But here was a planet where water fell from the sky. If she wanted to, she could bottle the water up and bring it back to Jakku. How many thirsty people would all this water quench? This water, which actually tasted like water. The water in the ocean, Rey quickly learned, had tasted like salt and had made her gag.

Rey held out her arms and spun around, enjoying the cool water on her face. It felt rejuvenating. It made her feel clean. It made—

“I'm not coming back with you.”

She jumped from fright and almost fell to the ground, catching her balance at the last minute. Standing in front of her, hood pulled up, was Luke Skywalker.

Before she could say anything, he spoke again, “But I think I can train you. We start tomorrow at dawn.”

Then, the Jedi Master was disappearing into the night, leaving Rey standing in the midst of the storm alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading. In the next chapter, there is Jedi training, members of Black Squadron, and progress with Finn's physical recovery.


End file.
